Escape - Alex Rider
by gryffindortrekkie13
Summary: A short story about Alex's escape from a terrorist holding area with K-Unit. Injuries, near death experiences and team bonding and recovery.
1. Chapter 1

He felt the bullet slam into his shoulder just above his heart. He stumbled but didn't fall.

He didn't feel the pain, his whole body felt numb and somehow disconnected from his head. The world seemed to slow down before his eyes.

His heartbeat was pounding in his head.

Dimly, he registered that someone was yelling in his face. It was Ben, or Fox, shouting at him.

Another shot was fired, this time the force of bullet had brought him down to his knees.

He raised a shaking hand and touched his left shoulder where the last two bullets had hit. His hand came away dripping with blood.

He took a deep shaking breath and got up and started to run after Ben, to door of the helicopter where the rest of the team was waiting.

They wouldn't see the blood from his chest, his black jacket made sure of that. He could feel everything, it was like his senses were enhanced.

The way his feet crunched on the gravel, the sound of his ankle slightly dragging behind him and every breath he took was magnified.

He could feel the adrenaline pulsing through him, the only thing that was keeping him upright and running. The sounds of gunshots where still echoing in his ears and he could taste blood in his mouth. He kept running, the helicopter wasn't far away now, his ankle was searing with pain.

Ben had already climbed in and was strapping himself in. The ground around him was being torn up by bullets.

He sprinted faster and in one motion hauled himself up into the helicopter. That's when things started to go wrong.

His legs, felt as if they no longer had the strength to stay upright. He staggered and fell into a seat right on the edge of the copter.

His breath was coming harder now. He rested his chin on his chest and closed his eyes.

Sound filled his ears, but it was slowly getting farther and farther away. His heartbeat pounded all over his body.

Every beat sent bursts of pain through his head. His shoulder was still numb, but he could feel the blood dripping down under his shirt.

He wiped his hands on his pants. He grimaced and tried to take a breath, but it was stuck in his throat. He was starting to panic now, his hands and body shaking uncontrollably.

Blood was dripping from his jacket onto the seat. Suddenly, there was someone roughly shaking his shoulders, he looked up, it was a medic.

The edges of his vision were starting to go blurry, and there was a ringing in his ears. He let his head drop onto his chest again.

Then, he was lying on the floor, the faces of the medic and his team seemed to be floating above him. A hand slapped his face, but he barely registered it.

His jacket was then ripped open and he could faintly hear curses and swearing. His once gray shirt was now covering in crimson blood.

A pool of blood was spreading out beneath him too, he could feel that. The medic had started to put pressure pads, and bandages on his wounds.

He didn't care, he felt very relaxed. He closed his eyes, again another hand sharply slapped him. He hadn't felt it but he opened his eyes anyways.

The world was different now. Everything was thrown into sharp focus, everything seemed to slow down too, more than before.

He could hear his own breaths now, becoming shallower and shallower. He could see with his enhanced vision every nook and cranny of the copters roof.

The blades outside swung slowly, almost lazily, beyond that he could see blue sky with a hint of snowy white clouds. It was beautiful, he felt at peace. He felt as if he could take anything that came his way. His face was wet, he realized, from tears.

He gazed once more at the faces of his team and thought of everyone he had ever loved.

Pictures flashed before his eyes, his mother and father both dressed nicely framed that old picture he kept by his night table when he was a kid, Ian and him in a Christmas picture, Paris, the Eiffel Tower, his savings someone's life, kissing the love of his life and more they flew by one after the other in his mind's eye.

Then the memories started to turn into the bad ones he had always kept in the deep depths of his mind. Watching his parents being murdered, being tortured, waking up countless times in a sterile hospital room.

The face of Eric Finch, the ultimate traitor and terrorist.

His heart started to race, his body started to panic and struggle. Pain was coming now, all over, like red hot lava running over him in streams.

He looked again at the blue sky between the copter blades and closed his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

He was awake, perfectly fine, healthy but confused. He was in a helicopter, an emergency rescue helicopter.

He was sitting on a seat on the edge. In front of his were about 5 people, men, huddled over something in the middle.

One of the men was a medic, he was performing CPR on a body whose face he couldn't see. He crouched down, next to the men, they didn't seem to notice him.

As he saw their faces, he felt a flash of recognition.

It was his team, Ben, Eagle, Snake and Wolf. They looked bad, starved and badly beaten. Eagle was sporting a broken nose, which was bleeding but the rest didn't look like they had any serious injuries.

He looked curiously at the person dying, it was obvious that whoever it was dying. The medic sat back for a second and he got a glimpse of the face.

Short, filthy dark blonde hair, and closed eyes, a face covered in dirt, grime and blood, there was a cut on his right cheek and he could see the faint outline of a scar in a crescent moon shape over his right eye.

He felt a jolt of surprise, he had that same exact scar on his eye from a past mission. He felt like he knew the person, personally, from somewhere he couldn't quite place.

He looked again at the body, the gray t-shirt was covered in blood.

It looked like he had been shot twice in the left shoulder, by his heart, and once on the other shoulder.

The body was limp and lifeless, an ankle was twisted in an awkward angle and it was obviously fractured.

The medic opened an eye to check the pupils of the body and he saw a flash of brown.

"Come on Alex" whispered Ben his hands together as if praying.

Alex recoiled, everything making sense at once.

The body was _him_ , he was the one dying. That's why he had looked so familiar.

Everything came back in a rush now. The prison hold, the torture, the gunshots, the copter. His head was reeling.

He could remember the pain of the wounds and he clutched his chest. The medic had started CPR and chest compressions again.

He stumbled back to his seat and sat down, hand on his chest, trembling. He had looked terrible, deathly and broken.

He looked at his team. Snake had his head in his hands, and was rocking back and forth muttering something to himself.

Eagle looked pale, his broken nose bloody. Wolf got up and punched the wall and started pacing his hands balled into tight fists.

Ben just sat there his head hanging. The medic hadn't given up yet and he was getting somewhere.

There was a flash of blinding white light and as the other him to a breath suddenly he was looking up at the medic. Pain overwhelmed him and he closed his eyes again.

He groaned. He was back as the dying version of himself.

The pain was terrible. He shut his eyes as firmly as he could and tried to breathe normally.

He took desperate rasping breaths.

He let his head fall to the side, he was feeling exhausted, he tried to stay awake because he was scared that if he fell asleep he would die, or go back to watching himself die.

Finally, he gave into the darkness and passed out.


	3. Chapter 3

He woke up to extremely harsh bright lights.

It took a while for his eyes to adjust, and when they did everything still seemed blurry. He felt confused, _where was he? Who was he?_

He closed his eyes and thought hard. _You are in a hospital; your name is Alex._ Alex, so that was his name, now he remembered.

Alex Rider, yes that was him. He was in a hospital but why? His head was pounding but he forced his head up and looked down at his body.

His chest was crisscrossed with bandages, _la puta madre what had happened to him?_ He felt panic rise like bubbles in his chest. He lifted his arm to touch the bandages but was stopped by a tube that was sticking out of his wrist.

Without thinking he pulled it out, blood flowed from it and alarms went off. He began to struggle and someone's face appeared, holding him down by the shoulders.

He studied the face. It seemed familiar. His brain was too tired to think, he kept fighting the hands though, and more appeared, people were shouting.

Then someone plunged a syringe into his arm and he blacked out.

When he woke up again, he took a while to listen before opening his eyes.

There were people talking in hushed voice some feet away. He couldn't understand them, he opened his eyes a crack and quickly shut them again because it was too bright.

He tried to move his arms surreptitiously so the people wouldn't notice. But he found that his arms as were his legs and chest were held down by straps.

He opened his eyes a crack again and looked to the right. Every movement he made sent daggers through his skull. Still, he braced himself to push through the pain.

He saw Ben and Snake both sitting in the chairs next the bed against the wall. Snake had his right arm in a small sling but Ben looked unharmed.

They both looked way better than before, Snake's blonde hair was clean and Ben was clean shaven.

He took a breath to say something but something caught in his throat and he started coughing, an ugly rasping sound. That got their attention, also the attention of the doctors.

"Shit" he said after the coughing subsided, his voice hoarse from being unused.

Snake just stared at him, but Ben grinned, a full out grin, looking just like a little boy.

"Jesus Alex" said Snake, a tad unsteadily, "The first word you say after being in a coma is shit?"

He looked bewildered. Ben just looked happy.

"Al, finally, you're awake" he exclaimed still grinning like an idiot

Alex just groaned pitifully from his position on the bed.

"What the hell happened to me?" He asked them wanting to know,

"Well" started Snake looking uncomfortable

"You've been in a coma for a week" said Ben

Alex didn't say anything just listened.

"As we were being rescued, you were shot twice in the left shoulder, just above the heart" he paused gesturing to his left shoulder and becoming ashen faced "That and with your earlier wound your other shoulder" he looked at Alex pausing again,

"You died 3 times before they could get your heart rate steady" he finished taking a breath.

They both looked at him to judge his reaction to this news.

Alex heard them, and didn't say anything, he just looked up at the ceiling his mind racing like crazy trying to divulge this new information.

He had died, for a second time. _Died_. Memories began coming back, presenting themselves to him in his mind's eye. He felt overwhelmed and his heart monitor began to spike.

Memories, so many of them. The feeling of the first bullet entering his shoulder, falling to his knees, looking up at the roof of the helicopter, blue sky.

He inhaled sharply, his head starting to pound in rhythm with his heart.

"It's alright" he said to Snake, who had gotten up, his mother hen like instinct coming out to play. "Just a lot process"

His voice was starting to go away and he rested his head on the pillow. Ben started to talk, probably to distract him from the information and Alex was grateful.

"They got him, the leader" Ben said "They've got them in custody now"

"And Wolf and Eagle?" Alex asked, concerned for the rest of his team.

"They're fine" said Ben "They should be coming in about an hour"

"Do you remember the first time you woke up in the hospital?" Snake asked curiously.

Alex thought for a moment, he remembered the harsh bright light, ripping the tube out of his arm and a syringe.  
"Yes" he replied "I remember taking the tube out of my arm and a huge syringe"

Ben gave a small laugh and Snake managed a tight smile.

"You went kind of crazy" Ben said.

"Yeah well you would too if you had no idea where you were or who you were, and your chest looked like mummy wrapped in toilet paper."  
"You remember now though" Alex asked "Right?"

"Yeah, some stuff, like my name is Alex Rider, I think I'm this badass British spy who gets loads of chicks, I have no idea how old I am, I'm hoping for 22 though, so I can drink in America" Alex said "Also other stuff like random memories."

"You're 18" Snake said helpfully

"Thanks" said Alex tiredly. He rested his eyes for a second. His head seemed to weight like a ton of bricks. He tried to take deep breaths to calm himself.

"Alright," Snake said standing up "I'm going to go get coffee"

"Me too" said Ben standing up too. They left, leaving the room empty. Alex sighed and called after them

"Can someone at least unstrap me" but no one heard him. He stared at the ceiling.

"A gun would be nice too" he said more to himself. He sighed again and closed his eyes sleep taking over every atom of his body.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Not mine.

A few weeks later….

The Commissioner had started to speak. Alex leaned back in his chair and lazily returned Ben's grin. Turning, he focused his attention on the speaker, almost immediately his attention began to waver.

Next to the podium was a elegantly decorated table. Alex didn't recognize many of the faces but stopped however when his gaze reached somebody familiar.

It was Michael Hart, assistant director of the CIA. Their eyes met for a second and Alex narrowed his eyes and looked away. He wasn't sure if he should trust Hart, based on what he knew of the assistant director.

It was uncomfortably hot in the room and Alex felt a drop of sweat slide down his cheek. He ground his teeth together and rubbed his jaw.

Suddenly he was very conscious of everything. The sound of the Commissioner's voice had faded into the background.

The back of his neck prickled, his sixth sense was spiking, something was wrong. He frowned and sat up straighter in his chair ignoring the twinge of pain in his shoulder.

Observing the room carefully, he scanned the faces around the room.

The Commissioner make a joke and the room laughed. His frowned deepened and he reached down and gripped his gun. It was a reassuring movement and Alex took a deep breath.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ben exchanging a glance with Wolf before looking at him concernedly.

A muscle in his cheek twitched and he strained his ears to hear to slightest suspicious sound. There it was, a sound in the distance.

Alex stood up, balancing his weight on his good ankle, and glanced around. He caught Hart's gaze and nodded to the wide windows to the right.

Ben was rising from his chair as the windows suddenly shattered inwards. Black clad men streamed through the windows, suspended on cords.

They all wore masks and carried lethal looking weapons. Something clattered into the middle of the room, Alex identified it, it was a smoke bomb.

White smoke filled the air, thick and dense. Alex flattened himself on the floor as the crack of bullets filled the air. His body screamed in protest.

His eyes burned from the smoke and tears ran down his cheeks. Raising his hand he breathed through his sleeve and peeked up over the table.

All around them men were coughing and gasping for breath, clutching at their throats and eyes. Alex began to take deep, calming, desperate breaths. Wiping his eyes on the tablecloth he reached for his crutches.

He peered intently through the smoke. Black-clad men spread out across the room guns raised their faces concealed by ugly gas masks.

Ripping a strip of fabric from the table cloth he tied it around his mouth and nose. He crept along the floor, his ears were ringing and the sound of stifled coughing could be heard in the distance.

It was an awkward crawl since he had to drag his crutches behind him. Stealthily making his way through the smoke he couldn't see much but could make out vague shapes scattered about the room.

"Stop!" shouted a voice from in front of him, a figure nearing. "Nobody move!"

Alex played unconscious as the man neared closer and waited until the right moment to act.

Shooting his arm out and he grabbed the man's ankle, and yanked him down to the floor. The man hadn't been expecting it and tumbled to the floor, his gun flying a small distance away.

Alex was on him in an instant and silenced him with several hard punches to the face. Grabbing the gun he knelt and disarmed the man and tossed another gun to Ben who had showed up behind him.

Grimly he thought about his crutches and how he couldn't walk without them.

Well, he could put them to good use. Supporting himself awkwardly he fired rapidly at figures that were quickly becoming more visibly as the smoke dissipated.

The smoke must have had something in it as he felt his head swim and the room shake.

Shaking his head to clear it he quickly took care of more men moving before forwards. He was slammed into the ground as one of the attackers tackled him from behind the gun falling from his hands as he lost his balance.

Using his crutch he swung backwards and felt it connect with his attacker's body. Twisting around, his shoulder screaming he scrambled up and barely had time to think as he was attacked from the front. Hopping on one foot he fought hand to hand defending his opponent having the upper hand. He began to see double and his shoulder and ankle were throbbing painfully.

After being pushed to the ground Alex grabbed his crutches and kicked forwards, using the crutches as supports and swinging his legs forwards.

Then, using a crutch as a club he parried and drove the tip of it into his attacker's stomach. He reeled as a fist caught him in the face out of nowhere and he felt his nose crack as blood started to flow freely from it.

Through the cloth and the blood now clotting it oxygen was being precariously hard to breath in and he gasped for breath. The feeling was similar to being drunk as the room swayed from side to side.

Like a boxer in the ring he fought to get up but when he did he retaliated with a barrage of punches and kicks.

Performing a judo trick he twisted around the man and locked him in a headlock, shutting off his oxygen. As the man fell unconscious Alex searched the ground desperately for a gun.

Black spots clouded his vision and he tore off the cloth covering his face. Shaking his head again to clear it from the fading effects of the drugs he spotted a gun discarded on the floor.

Praying desperately that it was loaded he dove for it just as bullets whizzed through the space where his body had just been.

Lying on his back he rounded off a few shots in the right direction and ignored the aching of his body. He had probably already torn his stitches he thought to himself and almost smiled at the irony of it. Shifting along the floor, his ankle now dragging completely useless behind and his left arm cradled against his chest.

He wondered how many of them were left and how many people had been knocked out. He worried about the head of CIA and Hart.

Branden and the guys were able to take care of themselves but what about the drugs that had been released?

Shots echoed as bullets embedded themselves in the table directly in front of Alex and he stopped and peeked over the table. Ducking down as bullets whipped over his head he thought frantically of a solution.

There had been about four men standing and this table didn't provide that much cover.

Steeling himself he stood up, dragging his one remaining crutch along with him and fired quickly taking aim and shooting fast and efficiently.

Shots echoed in the space and seemed like rockets in his head. The world seemed to slow down.

After just barely escaping alive from that prison, the danger had seemed to follow him here and he had literally just managed to escape from the hospital.

It was hard to think with all the numbness. He leaned heavily on his crutch and limped forwards.

He wasn't sure how many times he had been shot, to be honest to himself he didn't feel anything. It was the adrenaline but he could feel extreme tiredness creeping upon him.

He saw Michael Hart flat on the floor in between the men and the director unconscious next to him.

His head pounded and his vision wavered. Alex nodded reassuringly as Hart looked up and met his eyes.

The assistant director got up cautiously and looked pale and shaken as he glanced around the room. Alex closed his eyes briefly letting his fatigue and pain wash over him slowly.

"I'm okay." he answered Hart's question before it was asked.

He heard scuffling behind him and saw Hart's eyes widening in fear. He whipped around and found himself face to face with one of the black-clad men.

They were barrel to barrel, gun to gun, facing each other off. Alex was gripping the gun with one hand, the other holding his remaining crutch in a sweaty, bloody hand.

He searched for the eyes behind the goggles but couldn't see anything.

"Finch sent you right?" said Alex wearily in the silence.

Hart was frozen behind him and the occupants of the rest of the room were slowly coming to consciousness.

He gripped his gun tighter, feeling the familiar feel of a Glock pistol. He focused on the danger in front of him, the rest of the world blurring out in a wave of fatigue and tiredness.

The man slowly let go of the gun with one hand and slowly reached up and pulled his mask off. Emmett saw the familiar face of Evgeny Markovich, the assassin that had it in for both him and Ben. The assassin threw his mask to side and a sneer came over harsh Ukrainian/Russian features.

"I will finish you." seethed the Ukrainian through blood-stained teeth.

Alex noticed the slight hunch in the man's body and assumed he had been shot in the abdomen somewhere.

His own pain was becoming more and more striking and he fought the unconsciousness that threatened to consume him.

His hand shook and wavered. Sweat dripped down his face and his formal black dress uniform was tight and stifling. His mouth tasted like blood from the mess that had become of his nose.

The tension in the air was palpable.

To be continued….


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Brown eyes, that had seen too much stared into ruthless steel gray. Alex's hand slightly trembled as he fought to keep his arm raised and ready to strike.

His fingers curled tightly around the gun, his index resting gently on the trigger. The other man's hand never trembled.

Alex could sense that he was at a severe disadvantage. He was recovering from a serious injury, it hadn't even been three weeks since his life saving surgery.

He had died, came back and now was on the verge of dying once again.

His ankle, still in a cast was useless and his left shoulder, which was still bandaged, was completely weak and uncoordinated.

He had to use his wits somehow. With his head spinning and his eyes remaining determinedly on the man in front of him, his mind frantically thought for a solution.

Two guns, two people, a crowd of people around them.

Blood ran down and into his eyes and dripped onto his ruined uniformed suit.

He still had his crutch, of course, and he was propped against it. He wondered if he could use it to his advantage.

There was nothing to do but wait. This man wouldn't reason with him, Alex wondered incredulously why the man hadn't already killed him.

The smoke was dissipating and people were waking up, oblivious to the stand of in front of them.

Adrenaline continued to pump through his veins, and he felt an odd sense of thrill in being in this type of situation once again.

As a spy one would get accustomed to dealing with these sorts of things and Alex had been around that world for a while now.

He was no novice, SCORPIA, his uncle Ian and MI6 had made sure of that.

Suddenly something caught his eye. A man, was fumbling to get up behind the assassin, blood running down his face.

Evgeny didn't seem to notice, and as the man stood up fully he fell sideways, crashing into the assassin.

The Ukrainian swore loudly and his gun flailed, the intense eye contact between them suddenly broken.

Alex didn't hesitate. Shifting his weight backwards he lifted the crutch and bodily swung it, straight at the man's head.

He felt it connect and advanced forwards, ignoring the wrenching pain that the movement had inflicted on his ankle.

He was relying solely on his instincts now, his vision tired and blurry, blood and sweat making it very hard to have clear sight.

He fumbled on top of the man and struggled to rearrange his hands into something resembling a firing position.

He felt the gun in his hands and squeezed. The sound echoed throughout the room and for a moment Alex and man were still.

Hart, and the men gazed at the scene in horror, racing forwards to see Alex gingerly move above the limp body of the assassin.

Blood pooled on the floor and gushed out of the Ukrainian man. Alex too had blood covering his clothes but knew that it wasn't his own.

Alex gazed down in wariness. A couple of years ago, he would have been shocked...to have killed someone from such close range, but experience had numbed his senses leaving his close to empty inside when it came to death.

Alex had once been distraught for months when General Sarov committed suicide in front of him.

Not anymore.

Alex collapsed on the floor, next to the dead body and rested his head on the floor. His hands shook and he felt utterly exhausted.

The vague sounds of commotion could be heard, getting louder throughout the room and the distant sounds of sirens were approaching.

Alex opened his eyes as hands shook him gently…Michael Hart crouched above him.

"I'm alright."

"Alex, just stay there all right." said the assistant director concernedly.

Alex decided to ignore that request as he felt the irresistible urge for a breath of fresh air.

He groaned in pain as he somehow managed to get on his feet once more.

He stumbled towards the direction of the door and caught a glimpse of Wolf, Snake and Eagle waking up on the floor by their table.

 _They'll be fine_ , Alex thought to himself.

With his head pounding a symphony behind his eyes, he tried to focus on one thing at a time.

He knew how it went after adrenaline pumping situations. He needed to get outside.

Several hallways and a marble floored reception later, Alex found himself at the exit, a long line of armed soldiers and medical officers filing past him.

He kept going in a daze and soon found himself outside. Several ambulances and police cars were parked out in front, the blinking and flashing colors blinding him.

He covered his eyes and staggered a few short feet away.

It was a cool night, a soft breeze playing in the air, the stars shining up in the dark night sky.

Alex felt the events of the night slowly piling up inside him and it was getting harder and harder to breathe.

He glanced down at his hands and discovered them still shaking, though he wasn't sure if it was his hands that were shaking or his vision.

His face stung and his nose throbbed. Suddenly his stomach revolted and he felt himself empty its measly contents on the sidewalk.

He held himself up on the wall, gasping, vomit and blood mixing in a puddle on the cement pavement.

His mind was whirling and his brain replayed the some of the scenes that had just taken place.

He moaned as his mind went through the gunshot and the slackened body beneath him.

 _How did this always happen to him? Why was he the one that always had to take care of everything? He was just a normal boy, he never wanted any of this._

He wiped his mouth and staggered away from the wall of the building, the world spinning wildly around him.

It was like a whirlwind of lights, sirens and the dark of night.

His legs gave way and he dropped to his knees. Pain ricocheted through his legs and broken ankle at the impact but Alex didn't even notice.

His brain wouldn't stop and he feel the sheer pressure of everything amount all at once and he clutched his head in torment.

He gritted his teeth and shut his eyes tightly, bending over so that his forehead pressed into the ground.

 _Why wouldn't it stop?_

He fought to reign in his emotions and his mental functions but to no avail. Tears sprung in his eyes and he felt like sobbing.

 _Damn it all._

Next thing he knew he was on his back. Staring up at the night sky, buildings on either side, red flashing lights like a ring around him.

The lights blurred together and the world spun, and crashed and burned around him.

He wasn't sure what to feel anymore, what he was supposed to feel, or what he was feeling.

He felt so tired. Completed exhausted and worn out. He didn't even want to move from this spot.

He felt blackness approach him, unconsciousness disguised as sleep, and he hesitantly let it slide over him.

A small part of his hoped that it would stop the thoughts and the crazy ramblings of his mind but the realistic part of him knew that he would never escape the things that happened in his life. The things that had happened, the things that would haunt him forever.

They would continue to follow him in his sleep and when he was awake.

And then he was gone.

 _There is no escape._


	6. Chapter 6

The hospital room was as clean as it was empty. The bright fluorescent lights were shining brightly overhead and gleamed off the white tiles on the floor.

Its funny how hospital rooms were always so white. Alex had seen quite a few hospital rooms in his lifetime unfortunately.

They were always dreary, bleak and empty. He felt very similarly to this room.

He was alive, granted, but felt empty. After his complete mental breakdown after _years_ and _years_ of undeserved stress.

He wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to feel anymore. His friends had told him that they had found him lying in the street.

He had been unresponsive and unconscious. The doctors had blamed it on stress, PTSD and his previous injuries.

Frankly he was just tired. Tired of his life, tired of all the action.

He had never wanted any of this and it weighed on him every waking moment of the day. He had stayed here for awhile, on the overtly comfortable bed that belonged to the hospital reserved for wealthy patrons and special injured MI6 operatives.

He had felt no urge to leave, having nowhere to go. He wasn't sure what was next for him.

Blunt probably expected him back out in the field, completing missions and basically serving as their obedient instrument even if he was far from obedient.

Ben and K-Unit probably expected him to stick around them, as they were always concerned for his wellbeing and hated Blunt with a passion after discovering all that he had put Alex through. He was at a loss for what to do.

Rain sprinkled in a constant thudding against the window and Alex felt a small twinge of amusement. Raining in England, typical.

He was glad that he had sometime to himself. Ben and the others could be very clingy and overprotective and Alex felt overwhelmed with all the attention focused on him. He was still trying to recover.

He refused to think about certain topics, not wanting to face the backlash his brain and memories would inflict on him.

It was tough, to tie up all the loose ends of his memory and especially since now that he felt as if he had lost all control. It was like trying to hold a handful of sand without letting any of the grains slip through his fingers.

He couldn't handle all of the sand falling through and was trying to build himself solid walls inside his head.

After that night everything had been a mess. _He_ had been a mess for days. Flashbacks, nightmares and echoes of past plagued him day and night.

The sand had been blown straight out of his hand and he had lost his grip on himself. Day by day he had slowly getting better but he was still on shaky territory.

The doctors had called it PTSD or post traumatic stress disorder. Alex remembered reading about it awhile back but had never anticipated what it would be like to actually experience it.

He had read accounts of retired soldiers and trauma victims who still lived with the reminders of their pasts but had never imagined that it could be this bad.

He felt helpless against the torrents of his memories that brought along deluges of memories came along with floods of feelings, feelings of regret, guilt, panic, terror and many many many more.

It had gotten so bad that he no longer felt like a human being. He was like an empty shell.

There was that word again, _empty_.

The world that had been so vibrant and real before was different for him now. He wasn't sure what exactly had gotten him to crack. To break down completely.

He had supposed that it had been the Ukrainian assassin that he had killed. It shouldn't have affected him as much as it did.

Alex had killed many times in his life, sometimes on purpose and sometimes on accident. That night hadn't been an accident.

The weight on his shoulders had gotten to be too much, too heavy and he had collapsed underneath it.

Nobody could blame him of course, he had had to deal with things that no one should ever had to deal with. The world had crashed and burned around him and the ghosts of his past clung to him like clothes.

This was _his_ life, his life that had been twisted and turned by the manipulative work of MI6. His childhood and teenage years had been stolen from him and his adult life had been devoted to that _bloody_ organization.

Alex had felt angry, he had been angry for a long time. The resentment had eaten away at his morals and himself as he had continued to be corrupted and controlled for a long time.

His fury had been real and ferocious, like a big angry monster inside of him.

It had existed for a long time, ever since the death of his Uncle Ian and had been steadily growing inside of him.

Alex could feel it inside of him, resting gently beneath the surface but he felt a strange urge to just push it to the side.

He was fairly intelligent despite missing several of his last school years because of being off on missions and knew that he had choice.

He could continue to let his rage and resentment control and fuel him. He could continue to let his past haunt him, to let his ghosts inject themselves into his life.

Or...he could just let it go. It was funny to him how simple it seemed now. It was funny how once everything exploded and burned and collapsed around him he could finally see a new option, a new way out, an _escape_.

He had could go off the grid, disappear completely, live a life of his own for once. He had the means, he had the connections and definitely had nothing left for him here in England.

Blunt would try to find him, wanting to blackmail him into more missions as he had done before. Ben would panic at first but then would finally feel a sense of relief for Alex.

Ben would know that Alex would be okay, that he would manage on his own and that he would still keep in touch somehow and somehow would be okay with it. Ben would be glad that Alex got away from Blunt and MI6 and would be glad that his adopted little brother would finally get to experience the world the way it was meant to be experienced.

K Unit would try to look for him for awhile but eventually would begin to accept it.

Yes, Alex could see it now. He would travel, see the sights, all subtly of course.

He had been trained as a spy, he knew how to hide and how to never be found.

He felt something twinge inside his chest. It was fairly unfamiliar but Alex could distantly recognize it as a form of hope.

Beneath all the scars his heart was still beating and his lungs were still pumping air. He could see and hear and taste. He could touch things and _feel_ things.

He was not broken. He may be empty but could soon fill up with an old unused emotions like excitement and joy.

Things were not lost. He may feel lost, like a wandering veteran but he had direction.

To hell with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was going to _travel_.

Alex glanced around his room and out the window. The sound of cars driving down the crowded street below seemed distant.

The dark gray cloudy rainy sky outside didn't look black or depressing to Alex. To him it was a picture of new horizons.

He could see the brilliant blue sky of Florida and the golden sunset off the coast of Hawaii. He could _see_. It was an escape and it was _brilliant_.


End file.
